Syphon's Song (10 page)

He exhaled sharply to make himself smaller.

She almost had to pull him through the tight space. She stopped the moment he was clear.

“What happened to the trees?” she whispered.

The remains of hundreds of white trees stood in concentric circles, each circle of tree trunks shorter than the last as they reached the inner most area. It was like a woodcutter had created a round theater out of the forest. In the very center, two taller tree trunks leaned toward each other, as if they had once touched but were cut off below their embrace. Their slanting torsos were doomed never to reach fulfillment.

“They’re not really trees.” He whispered, too. “Not anymore. They’re rocks now. The cave spirals down beneath us. The two rocks in the center protect the entrance to the cave. The outer circle wasn’t here when I was born. The mark is still growing.”

No wonder the Rallis name garnered such fearful respect. Even the goddess had yet to halt the flow of her blessing upon their territory. Over two hundred years in the making and the mark still grew. An ancient potency emanated from it.

“It’s beautiful.” She pulled him forward, and they stepped past the first layer of former trees. They reached just above her waist. “It feels…pure.” She scanned around the circle. No body in sight. She wouldn’t ruin this moment by mentioning it. Instead she savored the peace of the vibes buffeting her from every side.

“It is pure. It’s the energy of the goddess, after all. The family’s altar is supposed to go in the middle of the mark.” A bare hint of nerves hid in his tone. “This is where the thanksgiving ceremonies used to be, but the power is too intense. None of us can stand to be here for long anymore. On days like today, no one can even get in.” He laced their fingers together. “Except you.”

She felt a touch of pride at her own mage power. That was new. “You Rallises are too powerful for your own good.” She let her free hand glide over the sides of the petrified trees as she led them toward the center over the packed dirt of the ground. The smooth ridges of the former trees vibrated with energy.

Her feet throbbed for relief, so she toed off her shoes. “Close your eyes,” she ordered. She started to reach under her skirt with one hand to tug off her stockings.

“No,” he replied with both eyes open. “I can’t sense a thing in here. I need to see.”

She huffed at his uncooperative attitude. “Don’t you ever let down your guard? Of all places in the world, surely you are safe standing in a blessing.”

He looked at her, steady and unmoving.

Of course the famous colonel never let down his guard. She discreetly tugged off her stockings anyway with one hand. She almost sprawled into an ungraceful heap, but she managed. Though this irresistible energy glided into her from every direction, she was still a practical girl and wouldn’t risk ruining the stockings. Besides, he couldn’t glimpse anything from above.

The moment her bare feet made contact with the ground, energy danced up her legs. She wanted to run and skip and jump through it, as if it were her personal playground. “I like it.” Little sizzles vibrated up her legs and she lifted her head with a laugh. His face hovered higher than before. Without shoes, she’d dropped by almost three inches.

Vincent brushed his shoulder against his cheek, wiping away a line of sweat. “Are you too hot?”

She shook her head with a squint. That was the last thing on her mind.

“I can’t cool us off in here. I’m afraid to use any vibes. I’m not sure how the gyre would affect me,” he explained. Sunlight shimmered on the white rocks, sparkling bright rays everywhere and adding to the temperature.

“Cooling myself off with vibes is a luxury I’ve never had. Too hot and too cold are normal for me.” Her sense of play dimmed. “Is the energy hurting you? Do you have a headache?”

He gave a short, abrupt laugh. “No headache. But if you let go of me, I think I’ll explode. There’s no way I could stand here without your syphon power pulling off some of the energy. And if you left me, I don’t think I could make it out.”

“I won’t let go.” She squeezed his hand. She was his only defense. “I swear by the goddess I won’t let you go.”

“I swear by the goddess I won’t let you go either.”

She wrinkled her brow. “I meant in here, Vincent. Not as a general statement concerning the rest of my life.”

She ignored his lack of response and walked farther into the gyre. The rocks dropped in height as they closed in on the center. Bronte stepped on top of one and, holding his hand, she jumped from one rock to the next, using them like stepping-stones. It would make a fabulous concert arena.

Energy radiated from the stones and stretched out to her. It tickled like a thousand dandelion puffs dancing over her skin. Facing the tall, angled stones in the center, she reached out to touch one. Vibes poured over her, immersing her inside and out with magic. She tipped her head to the sky and sighed with perfect contentment, swaying on her feet as energy gently pummeled her.

She turned and faced him, leaning her back against one white trunk that acted as a roof to the entrance of the spiral beneath the ground. She couldn’t keep the smile off her face. Everything else fell away—her parents, her past, her dreams, Claude. There was nothing here but pure energy. Tipsy with the power, she closed her eyes and put her one free hand over Vincent’s heart. Its steady thump pulsed through her until it passed into the gyre.

Vincent sucked in a harsh breath.

She giggled. “Can you feel that?”

“Yeah.” His voice was rough.

Her hand curled into his shirt. “Kiss me.” She pulled him closer.

He leaned in, but stopped. She could feel him hovering just above her lips.

“Are you drunk on all this energy?”

“Who cares if I am? Maybe this is what your thanksgiving ceremonies were supposed to be like. Your altar is just waiting for this. So kiss me.” She tugged again, but he didn’t cooperate.

“I’d like to. But I’m not going to kiss you for the first time when you’re high on energy that isn’t mine.”

“This isn’t our first kiss.”

“Thirteen years ago was a peck.”

His heat waved over her.

“I dreamed…I wished you had come after me.” The confession wafted from her lips. She opened her eyes to find a mar of regret across his face. His mouth pulled down like he was in pain.

She straightened and shifted them around, pressing him against the rock until it captured him and held him in place. “If you won’t kiss me, then I’ll kiss you. And I’ll give you more than a peck this time.” She slid her hand around his neck and drew him down. His breath touched her mouth. She inhaled the heat of him, surrounded by his vibes more than ever.

“Move away from him!” The cruel voice slashed through the silent air before their lips touched.

Bronte jumped, obeying the voice without conscious thought. Adrenaline snapped her out of the gyre’s joyful influence.

Vincent jerked away from the rock and stepped in front of her. They fumbled at each other to keep contact with their hands. Her bare wrist ended up clasped tightly in his grip.

She moved to stand at his side. She was used to hiding, but she would never cower behind him.

Chief Masset stood at the edge of the gyre among the trees guarding the powerful place. He squinted at them, as if the gyre was a sun and radiated light too powerful for comfort. “Bronte Casteel, you are under arrest!”

“On what grounds?” Vincent’s words shot around the gyre.

“There’s something not right about that Non. Get away from her, Colonel.”

She whispered to Vincent. “He can’t get in, can he?”

“Don’t know,” he muttered, too soft for the chief to hear. “I wouldn’t have thought he’d get this far. Get behind me.”

“You have no reason to arrest her,” Vincent hollered. “You are overstepping your authority, Chief Masset. And trespassing on Rallis land.” Vincent stepped back, forcing Bronte to do the same. “If I say run, you go straight back to the big house,” he said to her in a low voice.

“Only if you come, too. I’m not leaving you here to deal with him or these vibes. Besides, I swore not to let go.”

“Don’t let her pretty face influence you, Colonel. Now hand her over.” The chief didn’t wait. His fist closed and opened. He thrust it straight toward her. Her ears popped with his spell before it reached her.

Vincent jumped in front of her.

Without moving a hand, his mage energy expanded and shot out as if he’d wrenched open an unfathomable reservoir of power inside him. For the first time ever, she sensed the powerful energy surge of a mage’s spell. She could have reached around him and let his energy pour over her hand. The more energy that flowed out of him, the bigger the reservoir grew, as if it endlessly boiled up inside him. How much could his body hold? How could he possibly control this? How did he keep it from consuming himself?

Her heart raced. Fear took her breath, but her own mage power stayed steady and true. Her syphon absorbed the excess of his energy as if she were his coolant, keeping his engine running at the highest speeds without burning out. The more energy he used, the more her syphon pulled into her.

The energy of the gyre shifted as if the mix of powers tipped its equilibrium. Her ears sizzled under the pressure. Like a chain reaction, energy gushed forth. The ground rumbled. Bronte swayed. Her syphon drank in gulps of energy—the gyre’s and Vincent’s—until surely it could hold no more.

Her skin tightened as if her mage power expanded within her. She fell to her knees behind Vincent. He stayed on his feet, her wrist bound in his hand. Their physical connection kept Vincent from being overwhelmed, but it didn’t help her.

A loud crash like water rushing from great heights roared through the air, going on and on. Finally it faded away as if someone slowly dialed down the volume. She took a breath, easier without the rush of energy working through her. She looked around, anticipating an unrecognizable landscape after all that energy had swirled around. But from where she sat on her knees, leaning against Vincent, everything looked the same. Until she stood.

The all-white trees at the edge of the gyre—the ones so close together she’d barely squeezed through them—had lost their heads. The trees no longer stood as guards shielding the goddess’s blessing. They were now a part of it. No leaves or branches littered the ground. The trees’ canopies had simply disappeared. The trunks, now pale columns, gleamed like ice under the bright sunshine.

“Did you do that?” Her voice was small. Hesitation pitched the words high.

“We did that. You and I.”

Bronte closed her eyes for a moment, the ramifications of that too complicated to puzzle out right now. Just a few minutes ago, all she wanted was to stand inside this magical place. Now all she wanted was out.

“Did we…kill the chief?”

6

Vincent scanned the edge of the gyre where the chief had stood. Every nerve was alive and ready. That had been everything he’d ever been born to do. He wanted to do it again. A primal satisfaction ripped through him. He’d vanquished the mage who thought to take her from him. He’d deflected the chief’s rapid-fire spell and then added his own to it.

He wanted to charge over there and make sure his foe was truly conquered. But getting Bronte away was priority one. She’d been the catalyst for the whole thing. Without her syphon power, he couldn’t have cast or controlled that amount of energy. Not in here.

“Are you alright?” He kept his gaze where the chief had fallen.

“I swallowed an entire ocean of power. But I’m fine. Do you see him?” Her shaky voice clamped down on his urge to rush into another attack.

He risked a glance back to make sure she told the truth. Her hair had fallen from its tidy knot. Now it spread in shiny waves around her face and down to her arms. Her sweater hung off one side and exposed a pale shoulder.

“We should go see if he’s alright,” she said.

“No. We’ll get you back to the big house. I’ll come back.”

“And how are you going to do that? You can’t be here without me, remember? We have to go together.”

Her fiery retort was a relief. She would be fine.

He squeezed her wrist gently and pulled her up. Her wrist was so small, he was hesitant to put too much pressure on the fine bones, but neither did he want to turn and use both hands. He didn’t trust that the chief was truly down. “You can make it over there?”